


Night Visitors

by raspberrycoffeecake



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrycoffeecake/pseuds/raspberrycoffeecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if, instead of staying platonic co-workers for seven years, Mulder and Scully had a sort of ongoing sexual relationship starting in Season 1.  A possible idea for how this might play out throughout their partnership.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters are in the works :)

Two days after I was released from the hospital, and two weeks after her father died, Scully came to my apartment in the middle of the night. I was lying on the couch, the TV was on mute, when I heard her soft knock on the door.

I reached blindly for the shirt I had thrown on the floor a few hours earlier and stumbled, shoeless, to the door. And there she stood, her hair slightly messy, as though she had just tried to sleep on it, and a beige trench coat thrown over what looked like pajamas. I had no time to say anything before she had pushed past me and curled up in a tight ball on the couch, shaking.

“Are you OK?” and “What’s wrong?” seemed like pointless formalities - we both knew the answers to both of those questions. So I sat down beside her and gathered her small body in my arms, rubbing my hands up and down her shoulders as she trembled. I wondered why she was unable to cry now - had she cried so much while I was in the hospital that tears failed her now? Even now, bursting with pain from her father’s death, was her shell of self-sufficiency and rationality too hard to break through?

Eventually, her limbs loosened enough for me to pick her up and carry her to my bedroom. I pushed a few boxes aside, then returned to where she stood to help her take off her shoes and coat. Then, she lay down on the bed and I lay behind her, holding her tightly. I kissed her cheek once, when I thought she had finally fallen asleep, and she shivered slightly beneath my touch.

When the early morning sunlight woke me, she was already gone, and I knew that the Scully I would find when I arrived at the Hoover Building would be as put-together and professional as ever. I couldn’t help but wonder, though, how much it cost her to keep up her cool facade when her interior was crumbling. She didn’t return the next night, and I couldn’t tell whether I was relieved or disappointed.

***

A few months later, she came a second time.

I had called her that night, and she had answered in a voice that told me that I had woken her up from an uneasy sleep. She said nothing for several long seconds after I told her that our work on the X Files was being shut down. Finally, she answered, in a completely flat tone, “OK. Goodnight, Mulder.”

After a few minutes of flipping channels and feeling discontent with everything I saw, I turned the TV off and threw myself down on my bed, hoping that at least sleep would provide some relief from everything that had happened that day. I stripped down to my boxers, but even with the covers thrown off, I was drenched in sweat - whether from the hot June night in an apartment without air conditioning or from my uneasy thoughts, I couldn’t tell. I lay awake, unable to turn my uneasy mind to sleep, for what felt like a long time. 

I must have drifted off at some point, though, because I was startled awake by the sound of a key turning in my apartment door. My groggy mind barely had time to register the presence of a possible threat in the room before I recognized Scully’s shape in the open doorway.

She was illuminated by the streetlight outside my window, and I could see she was wearing a loose, sleeveless sundress and sandals, as if she had just thrown them on before coming here. She paused for a moment without entering the room, as if unsure of herself, before she quietly slipped off her sandals and slid under the covers behind me, her arms reaching out to hold onto my back.

“Sc-“ I managed to say, turning over, before she covered my mouth with desperate kisses. Her mouth was hot and wet and forceful. Something in me told me I should try to resist, keep her from crossing this line, but that was forgotten when she grabbed me and pulled me down on top of her. 

Suddenly, I couldn’t keep my hands off her face, her chest, her hips. Soon, her dress was bunched around her waist, and she had flipped me over and climbed on top of me. Still kissing me hard and steadying herself against my chest with one hand, she pulled my already-hard cock out of my boxers and positioned it below her. She pushed her panties aside and I thrust up into her, as we both groaned through our kisses. I had just enough presence of mind to push my fingers between us and she broke the kiss to cry out. 

I started rubbing hard and thrusting harder, hoping desperately that I could make her come before I lost it in her. As I felt her bucking harder against my thrusts, I began to feel myself coming. “Scully, come for me,” I grunted, and she responded with a loud moan, followed by a whimper, as her arriving orgasm pushed us both over the edge.

Panting, with tiny beads of sweat running down her face, she pulled away and lay on her back next to me. I gathered her to my chest and stroked her hair, wondering if this would be my only chance to see her like this, soft and vulnerable and real.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” I finally whispered into her hair. She shook her head.

***

The night after she was released from the hospital and finally came home, I spent almost an hour deciding whether I should call her. Maybe hearing my voice would just make her worry more, remind her that we still had to catch the bastards who had taken her. Maybe her mother and sister were with her, making her laugh or listening to her cry. Maybe she wanted nothing to do with me and this damned work that had made her a target in the first place.

It was midnight before I finally gave up pacing by the phone. Barely thinking about what I was doing, I put on my coat, left the apartment, and drove over the bridge to Georgetown. There were no lights on in her windows. I took out the key she had given me a few months earlier, slid it into the lock, and quietly opened the door.

No mother or sister sleeping on the couch. I slipped through the dark living room and lightly pushed open her bedroom door. There she was, hair fanned around her face on the pillow. She slept peacefully, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath, as though she had just been through an ordinary day at the office instead of a traumatic abduction and miraculous return to life from a vegetative state.

I leaned against the wall beside the door, staring at her sleeping form, almost unable to believe that she was really back. In the morning, I would slip away before she woke, never letting her know that I had been there, but right now, I had to stand guard, to make sure that no one would ever take her away from me again.


	2. Chapter 2

When I heard the line go dead, I realized that my entire body was numb. After all we had gone through together - I had broken into a high-security government facility to save Mulder’s life, goddammit, and I had just seen a man shot for this crazy cause of ours - and they were shutting us down, just like that? I would be sent back to teach at Quantico, and he would be back to profiling serial killers. Or worse, they would put him on some low-level grunt job to punish him for daring to actually get somewhere in his work.

I felt the anger and frustration seep through me, saw my fists clench, and I felt the urge to punch something. Then, the rational side of me took hold: Mulder must be going through the exact same emotions and frustrations. It would help both of us to talk about it, to feel each other’s presence while we pondered what lay ahead of us.

So, briefly considering the wall of hot, humid air I would encounter when I stepped out of my climate-controlled apartment, I slipped on a light sundress and sandals, grabbed my purse, and walked out onto my eerily lifeless street.

I expected to find Mulder on his couch, watching TV, the way I had found him the last time I showed up unannounced at his apartment. But when I knocked lightly, there was no answer. And when I took out his key and let myself in, I saw that the living room was dark and the bedroom door was shut. Had he gone out to a bar? Mulder drank infrequently, but when he did, he usually went too far. I walked over to the bedroom door and quietly nudged it open.

There he was, lying on his bed. I couldn’t help but notice that, just like the last time I had been here, boxes filled every free inch of space in the room. 

Then I turned my eyes back to Mulder. He was naked except for a pair of boxers, and he was lying on his side. From where I stood, I couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep, although he hadn’t stirred when I opened the door.

I paused for a moment, pondering my options. I could just leave, pretend I had never come, and we could return to our professional banter on Monday as we cleaned out the basement office and prepared to go our separate ways. But it was too much. He needed to know how much he meant to me, how angry I was that we were being separated, how much the idea of being apart scared and saddened me.

So I walked into the room, slipped off my sandals at the foot of his bed, and climbed in beside him. I don’t know whether I thought he would wake up or would just sleep through my arrival, but when I put my arms around his bare chest, his scent and the feeling of his skin on me was overwhelming. And when he turned over and started to say my name, I lost control. Suddenly, kissing him was the only option. And when he started kissing me back, tasting me, moving his hands all over my body, it was clear that there was only one way this would end.

***

I knew that it would be too painful to stay the night. Nothing more needed to be said between us - it was obvious that we both felt the same way. So, when he had fallen back to sleep and I finally built up the self-control necessary to slip out of his arms, I returned home.

I thought that I might cry myself to sleep, but I think I was too numb even for that. Or too exhausted, since almost as soon as my head hit my pillow, I was asleep.

The next morning, as I had expected, we were completely professional with each other. Mulder cleaned out his desk and I packed up a few personal items from my work area. When the day was over, the basement office was empty again, all traces of the year and a half we had worked there together gone. 

As I prepared to leave, I put down my box and hugged him. Protocol be damned. As he let go, he whispered in my ear, “You know where to find me.” Then, he kissed me on the cheek. 

Afraid that I would lose control of my emotions again, I picked up my box and almost ran out of the office to my car, before finally letting loose the tears that had threatened since last night.

***

The week after I was released from the hospital, Mulder came to my room every night to stand guard. We never talked about it in the daytime, and I never let him know that I knew he was there. Sometimes he would sit in the armchair next to my bed, other times he would just stand, leaning against the wall, as if he wanted to make sure I didn’t disappear again when he was looking the other way.

Part of me was a little annoyed at his solicitude, but when one night, a week after he first started coming, he didn’t show up, I realized that I missed his soothing presence in the room. So, after a few Mulderless nights, I put my coat on over my pajamas and, just as I had on that eventful night six months earlier, I drove across the river to Alexandria.

Unlike last time, I could hear the TV from the living room as I stood at the door and I heard him shuffle over to the door at my knock. He blinked sleepily for a moment, without moving or saying anything. When I finally asked, “Can I come in?” he opened the door a little wider and motioned me in. 

I sat down next to him on the couch, and it felt completely natural to lean my head on his shoulder as he put his arm around me. He smiled as he pushed my hair back from my face and asked, “What’s eating you, Scully?”

I chuckled a little and responded, “Nothing, really. It’s good to be back working with you…”

“But?” he prompted.

I paused for a second. “But…I feel weird about that night - when we found out they were closing the X Files.”

He pulled me closer to him and smiled, perhaps a bit wryly. “Me too, Scully. I think…I hope it’s clear how I feel about you.”

I nodded, still leaning against his shoulder. I waited for the lump in my throat to subside a little before continuing. “It hurts to say this, Mulder, but I don’t think we can do it again. We’re under too much scrutiny, our work is too important to jeopardize. Or to let ourselves get distracted from it.”

He sighed. “I know. After tonight, it’s back to the work. We’ll be completely professional colleagues, above all possible reproach.”

I had to smile at that. “But what about tonight?”

“What do you say we allow ourselves one last, little indulgence before we go all cold turkey? The good people of Wisconsin never need to know about what goes on behind closed doors in Washington.”

And with that, he swept me up, both of us laughing, and carried me into his bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

As she buried her face in my shoulder, I could smell her shampoo - light, slightly fruity, comfortingly familiar. A few feet away, the local police were still cuffing and hauling away the man who had turned my strong, beautiful partner into the trembling, sobbing creature I now held in my arms. His face was expressionless, and as I saw him, still gazing at Scully’s bright red hair, I decided that we needed to get away.

I pulled her along, still clutching her to my side, until we got outside. My rental car was still at the local FBI office, so I flagged down a young agent to give us a ride.

“I think we should take you to the hospital, Scully,” I murmured into her hair.

She straightened a little, although she was still leaning heavily on my arm for support. “No, Mulder, I told you I don’t need a doctor. I’m not injured. I just want to lie down somewhere.”

“OK.” Hard to argue with a doctor.

The young agent drove us to the nearest motel. There was no question - I wasn’t leaving her alone that night. So I brought Scully to the room and rode back to the local office to get my rental car and my overnight bag. 

When I put my key into the lock and opened the door as quietly as I could, Scully was lying, curled up in a ball, on top of the covers. Her shoes were still on. As I approached, I hoped maybe she had fallen asleep. When I got closer, though, I could see that her eyes were open and dry and staring straight ahead.

I sat down next to her and ran my hand through her hair. “Hey.” No response.

I kissed the top of her head and rubbed her shoulder. “Why don’t you get yourself ready for bed? Here, I’ll help get you started.” And I moved to the end of the bed and gently pulled off her shoes.

“It’s okay, Mulder,” she said from behind me. “They need you down at the station, I’m sure they want you to give a statement…”

“Nope, that can wait until tomorrow.” I flashed her my bravest smile. “The only place I need to be right now is here.”

Then I felt a pillow hit the back of my head. “You’re so sappy, Mulder.” 

When I looked down at her, I could swear she was even smiling back at me a little. I ruffled her hair, put the pillow back in its place beside her, and held out my hand. She took it, and stood up. I handed her a cheap little toothbrush, still wrapped in plastic. 

“The guy at the front desk let me have this. You can borrow one of my t-shirts to sleep in.” I didn’t mention that her car, along with her overnight bag, was still in evidence and probably wouldn’t be released until tomorrow, but she could probably guess that. Wordlessly, she took the toothbrush and t-shirt and went into the bathroom.

Half an hour later, when I finished brushing my teeth, Scully had curled herself into a little ball again, this time under the covers. I turned out the bathroom light, moved to the other side of the bed, and shut off the bedside lamp. 

At first, I decided to lie flat on my back - that way I could keep watch, and there was no risk of either of us doing something we would regret later. But then, I saw her shiver just a little, just like she had done when she came to me after her father’s death. And I couldn’t help myself - I rolled over and wrapped her small body up in my arms.

She was still trembling, so I ran my hands up and down her arms, stroked her face, and whispered whatever words of comfort I could think of. And for the first time that day, I allowed myself to feel a rush of guilt, that for the second time in only a few months, she had almost been taken from me forever, that I was in some way responsible for almost losing her.

But suddenly, all thoughts of guilt were driven out of my mind when I felt Scully’s small, delicate hand reach up to my jaw as she turned herself around enough to kiss me. 

And I completely lost it. One of my hands moved to her cheek and the other to her breast, barely covered by the rough fabric of my t-shirt, as I started kissing her harder. Her other hand reached down to touch my quickly-hardening cock through my boxer shorts and I could feel her whimpering as her tongue lightly entered my mouth. As we kissed, her t-shirt rode up her stomach, leaving her cotton panties and her bare stomach exposed.

I have no idea how, but somehow, seeing her bare skin jolted me back to reality and the rational part of my brain finally took over. If we had agreed this wasn’t a good idea when we were both in a healthy state of mind, fucking Dana Scully when she was reeling from a violent abduction was about the worst thing I could do. 

I reluctantly broke the kiss and pulled my hand away from her chest. Then, I gently moved her hand away from my protesting cock, pulled her so that her back was curled against me again, and rested my hand lightly on her hip - away from any areas that could be unnecessarily tempting.

“Mulder-“

“Shhh, not tonight. Just sleep. I’m here.”

As she finally drifted off into sleep, I whispered into her hair, “I’m here for as long as you need me.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was obvious from the way he sounded on the phone that Mulder would not be at his best tonight. It had already been a few hours - enough time for him to catch one of those little planes from the Vineyard back to DC - and stopping my worried pacing for long enough to drive over to his apartment and check on him was starting to seem like a good idea. I was about the grab my keys when I heard his knock on the door.

I barely had time to register the lost expression on his face before most of his body weight came crashing into my arms, almost knocking me over. Somehow I caught my balance and managed to move him over to the couch, where he collapsed.

Feeling both responsible for maintaining his wellbeing and completely unsure of how to actually help him, I hovered above him for a while. What could I say to him? ‘Hey Mulder, how was the Vineyard? Did you have a good time watching someone murder your father?’

Going with a practical question seemed like the best idea. 

“What do you need, Mulder?” Open-ended question. Maybe too open-ended. I chickened out. “Water? Tea? Coffee?”

He grunted from where he sat on the couch and his head rolled back. “Just sit with me for a minute, Scully.”

Uh-oh. The most he’d said since he arrived, and this was already headed in a dangerous direction.

Obediently, I sat down in the space left on the couch, at a safe distance, almost a foot away from where he was. But he immediately reached his arm around the back of the couch and pulled me closer. There was no scent of alcohol on his breath, but as he clutched at me, I felt like I was sitting with someone who was black-out drunk. 

My fear that he would try something turned out to be unfounded, though - once he had his arm around me, his head rolled back again and I could swear he had fallen asleep.

His t-shirt was speckled with blood and I could smell the faint odor of gunpowder on his clothes. Even if he was dead to the world now, I needed to get him out of these clothes and into bed. Gingerly, I disentangled myself from his arms and stood, then grabbed both his hands to pull him up, too. He was semi-conscious at this point, and I half-dragged him into my bedroom, where I sat him down on the edge of the bed.

I pulled his t-shirt off first. I was sorely tempted to chuck it right into the trash can, but my rational side intervened. So, instead, I neatly folded it and placed it on top of my dresser, in case it might be needed later as evidence.

Then I pulled off his shoes. I met with a little resistance, but when I persisted, Mulder gave in.

The last step was the most awkward, but I knew it had to be done if he was going to get any kind of restful sleep tonight. I was still half-afraid that, even in his confused state, he might react in a way we would both regret tomorrow morning. After a moment’s hesitation, though, I gritted my teeth, unfastened the fly on his pants, and pulled them off.

Mulder’s eyes followed me with a look that was part dazed, part longing, but I pointedly ignored it. I pulled back the bedclothes, helped him lie down, and turned off the bedside lamp. For a moment, I wondered whether I should lie down beside him - but reason got the better of me, and I took my pillow and a spare blanket into the living room to sleep on the couch.


	5. Chapter 5

She leaned into my shoulder as we sat by her sister’s hospital bed, and I swore I wasn’t going to sleep with her tonight. Yes, we had agreed to keep our relationship platonic, but more than that, if we slept together, I would be taking advantage of her pity for me and the delicate emotional state she was in, and that’s just not the kind of guy I am. 

So I was just going to make sure she got home safe, then I would high-tail it to my own apartment to drown out the last few days with one of my videos and a beer. Maybe two beers.

I maintained my resolve even as I looked down into her wet blue eyes and led her out of the room and down the silent hallway to the waiting room. At this point, I didn’t even want to think about where either of our cars had ended up, so I steered us toward the front desk to ask them to call us a cab. 

My hand was still resting on the small of Scully’s back as we waited for the receptionist to dial. When she asked where we were going, I answered, without thinking, “Georgetown.” Scully raised her eyebrow at me but said nothing. 

I opened the car door for her and offered my hand to help her in, but she pushed past me. Grieving Scully was still fiercely independent, apparently.

We sat in silence during the cab ride. My fingers itched to take her hand in mine, but at that point, I knew it was still a bad idea. So I shoved my hands into my lap and stared fixedly ahead. I assumed Scully did the same.

I had decided that we would drop Scully at her house and then I’d continue on to Alexandria. Maybe I’d get out and give her a quick hug, you know, what a guy does when his partner’s upset. But I definitely would not go inside. Beer and my XXX subscription awaited me at home. Scully would probably want to take a bath and drink a glass of wine.

But the look she gave me when the taxi pulled up in front of her apartment - full of heartbreak and confusion and loneliness - told me I couldn’t just leave her here. So I paid the driver and walked up the stairs one step behind her. She unlocked the door, then stepped aside for me to go in.

The warmth and faint vanilla smell of Scully’s apartment were intoxicating. But I would stick to my guns. I would stay here until I knew she was OK, then I would get another cab back to my apartment.

“I’m going to make a pot of tea. Would you like some, Mulder?” Her voice sounded so normal, as if I had just come over on a Sunday afternoon to review case files. No one listening would be able to tell that, in the last few days, we had both nearly been killed a few times, we had lost two family members, and we had uncovered more evidence of a far-reaching government conspiracy than either of us could even fathom right now.

Tea. Tea was safe. I could accept a cup of tea and sit next to Scully on the couch in silence. I could do that without losing my self-control. So she stood, leaning against the kitchen door as she waited for the kettle to boil, while I sat on the couch, a little hunched over, with my hands clasped tightly in my lap. There was no conversation. I glanced over at her once, and saw that she was looking blankly out the window.

When the tea kettle whistled, she poured out two mugs, handed me my cup and sat down next to me. Close enough I could smell the last remnants of the perfume she must have put on yesterday morning, underneath a thin layer of perspiration and dust. There were still a few inches of space between us, but her left leg was dangling dangerously close to mine.

She took a sip from her mug, and then set it down on the coffee table. I did the same, watching from the corner of my eye as she sat back stiffly and nervously tapped her fingers.

I hate awkwardness, and it seemed like the thing to do, so I leaned over, gently cupping her chin, and kissed her. Just a sweet, short kiss. Completely innocent.

But the faint taste of cinnamon from the french toast she had eaten at that roadside diner while we were waiting for Skinner and the slightly sour taste of her breath overwhelmed me, and I wanted more. My other hand, of its own accord, reached up to cup the other side of her face. Then she was kissing me back, and somehow I had pushed her up against the end of the couch.

There was still a small part of me that was telling me that I should just pass this off as an enthusiastic good night kiss and get the hell out of there, but there was no way it could win over the stronger parts of me that wanted her, now. And her small, warm hands had somehow gotten under the hem of my shirt and were tugging it off me. And then she grabbed at my already hard cock and I was gone. The willpower I had tried so hard to hold on to this evening vanished.

I pulled her shirt up, too, and immediately pulled my mouth away from her lips so I could suckle at her nipple as she stroked me. Her soft moans encouraged me as I licked and sucked, my hands running over her stomach and then down to unfasten her pants. It occurred to me that I should at least have the decency to carry her to the bedroom, but when I reached into her panties and felt how wet she was already, that thought disappeared, too. So I pulled her pants and her panties down her hips and went down on her right there on the couch, feeling her shudder as she approached orgasm, my tongue swirling wildly around her.

When she came hard around my mouth, I paused for a moment and looked up at her face. The calmest, most serene I had seen since I returned from New Mexico. So maybe, even if I started this for selfish reasons, this was worth it. I had given her a moment of peace.

I was quickly jolted out of that thought when she hauled me up to kiss me again, and all thoughts of stopping there and parting again as friendly co-workers were banished from my mind. Suddenly, I could think of nothing but burying myself in her, and all I could do was grab her roughly and drag her toward the bedroom, my mouth barely leaving hers.

***

I woke up in Scully’s bed for the second time this week, the smell of freshly brewed coffee hitting my nose as I sat up. I could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and I felt a wave of relief. Normal morning routines. If we could go back to normal morning routines, then we could go back to the way things were before this horrible week. 

After a few minutes, Scully came back into the bedroom in a thick bathrobe with a towel wrapped around her hair. She was carrying two coffee mugs, and she handed one to me before she took a sip from hers. Then, she set the mug down on the nightstand, propped a pillow up on the headboard, and sat beside me, a soft smile on her face. God, even with a towel on her head, she was radiant.

Part of me wondered if everything that had happened to us had just been a terrible dream. But this was just a moment. My father was dead, her sister was dead. I couldn’t just live in this happy moment with Scully and ignore those two horrible facts. At some point, we would have to come crashing back to Earth.

Maybe sooner rather than later. I have a bad habit of saying what I really shouldn’t.

“Scully?” I stroked her arm.

“Hm?” She looked at my coyly from the top of her coffee mug.

“I don’t want to sound like a jerk, but…why did you sleep with me last night?”

Damn it, did I really just say that? Her face immediately registered hurt, which was quickly replaced by a classic, blank Scully expression. She studied me for a moment without saying anything.

“You needed it.” I couldn’t tell if she was angry or just felt sorry for me, but I was too worked up to care.

“Oh, just me? It’s just poor Mulder who needs a pity fuck?”

That was low, even for me. She looked at me, saying nothing, for a full minute. I didn’t know whether to expect an explosion or solid ice, and my sudden fear of her reaction melted my anger as quickly as it had arisen.

Finally, she turned away from me, stood, and picked up her coffee mug.

“I’ve got to get dressed. My mother’s coming by in an hour so we can handle the arrangements for Missy.” She shrugged, as if this were an everyday occurrence for us. “You can use the shower if you want.”

“No, it’s OK, I’ll go.” I stood and gathered my clothes, then, with only a brief glance at the calm, closed-off expression on her face, I quickly dressed and left her alone.

***

All day, I debated calling her.

When I was thinking clearly, going for a run outside or calling up the Gunmen sounded like good ideas. Rationally, I knew that I had to do something to take my mind off of my grief and anger and guilt at the completely idiotic way I had treated Scully. But I couldn’t seem to bring myself to stop moping and get off the couch.

Around three o’clock, figuring she would be home, I finally built up the nerve to call. She answered on the third ring.

“Hey Scully.”

“Hi.”

Shit. What do normal people say in this kind of a conversation? Make small talk?

“How’s your mom doing?” Ask about family members. Good move.

“Better than might be expected, I guess.”

Another pause. Let’s get on with it, then.

“Listen, Scully, I want to apologize. I acted like a total jerk this morning. What I said was uncalled for.”

“I agree, and I accept your apology.” Was that a hint of playfulness in her voice? I can work with that.

“I want to make it up to you, Scully. In a providing you with food kind of way. Can I take you out to dinner tonight?”

“If you’re talking pizza or Chinese, Mulder, I think I’ll pass.” She was definitely smiling now. And she was not going to let me take the easy way out of this one, either. But I was OK with that - I deserved it.

“I won’t tell you where, but I promise, no pizza or Chinese. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“It’s a date.”


	6. Chapter 6

We had been driving for a few hours on dark, narrow roads through the New Hampshire woods when Mulder pulled off onto a side road, cut the engine, and looked over at me.

Even though I had made a big deal earlier about wanting to drive home, I was glad he had offered to take over half an hour ago. It was almost three in the morning and all I wanted to do was sleep.

But the change in the car’s motion startled me awake. I looked over at him groggily, wondering what the subject of this latest Mulder Car Monologue might be. When I blinked and my eyes found his face in the dark car, I was surprised to see he wore what looked like a somewhat sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry, Scully.” 

Well, that was different. I straightened and turned in my seat, wondering where this was going. 

“My behavior back there was stupid.”

I couldn’t disagree with that, but despite myself, I was a little moved by his contrite attitude. “Both of us were acting a little strange tonight.”

He turned away from me and balanced his head on his hands, which were still resting on the steering wheel.

“Scully, I feel like I betrayed you.”

Oh. He was really going there. Since the night my sister died, neither of us had made any overtly romantic gestures toward the other. He had taken me out to dinner as a sort of an apology, which was both sweet and awkward, but then, as we always did, we returned to work as if nothing had happened. 

And now, here he was, bringing it up again. So I guessed it was my job to shoot it down, stuff it back in the box, and allow us to go on with our working relationship.

“Mulder, it’s none of my business what you do in your personal life. I’m sorry I walked in at an inopportune moment, but the notion that you betrayed me is just silly.”

We were both facing forward then, refusing to look at the other as we spoke. Now he turned to me and said, rather forcefully, “Of course it’s your damn business, Scully.”

Oh God, that expression in his eyes - I had to shut this down quickly.

“Mulder, I don’t know if this is a good i-“

But I couldn’t finish, because his hands were on my face and his lips were on mine, devouring me as if his last meal had been months ago. And with all of these circles we’d been dancing around each other lately, I had no will to resist.

The rented Taurus we were right now supposed to be driving back to Boston had no center console, so once our seatbelts were undone, Mulder shifted over in the seat and, barely breaking the kiss, pulled me onto his lap. And then his hands moved to my hips, pulling me in towards him, towards his quickly hardening cock, as naturally as if we did this every day.

But then he pulled away and looked into my eyes, his hand following a stray tendril of hair down my face.

“I’m being stupid again, aren’t I, Scully?” 

I didn’t want to, but this was the time to put an end to this. I nodded silently.

“It’s just…I want you so much, it drives me crazy sometimes. I tell myself why we shouldn’t do this over and over again, but it never seems to help. I just want you more.”

I leaned my forehead against his and touched his cheek, running my hand over his day-old stubble. 

I could have shut him down right then, told him I didn’t want him, that I just wanted to be work partners. But there’s something in my nature that makes it impossible for me to lie, even for a good reason. So I said nothing.

Instead, I turned my head up to kiss his forehead and slowly climbed out of his lap so we were sitting side by side again on the front seat. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

“Mulder,” I said finally, “none of my ideas are any better than yours, so let’s just leave things the way they are right now. I’m not ready to deal with this yet, and I’m not sure you are, either. Let’s just keep driving, catch the first flight back to DC, sleep until some absurd hour in the afternoon, and pretend we were never in New Hampshire.”

I felt him kiss the top of my head and ruffle my hair affectionately. As I shifted back over to the passenger seat, he buckled his seatbelt and started the car engine again. He smiled over at me as I buckled myself in and leaned back in my seat for the rest of the drive.

“You know, Scully,” he said, with a suddenly lighter tone to his voice, “you didn’t specify WHERE we might be sleeping until some absurd hour in the afternoon.”

He winked, I groaned, and we were back on the road.


	7. Chapter 7

I refused to admit to myself the real reason I didn’t pack pajamas when Mulder decided we were making a last-minute trip to southern Virginia to check out a UFO sighting. It was May, and the motel room might not be air-conditioned, so I wouldn’t need warm clothes for sleeping. Might as well save space in my bag.

At the end of the four-hour drive down from DC, I was surprised to find that the bed-and-breakfast Mulder had booked was nicer than our usual fare. And somehow, there was only one room available.

“Isn’t there somewhere else around here we can get two rooms?” I asked, more for the sake of argument than because I actually cared.

“There’s nowhere else decent anywhere nearby. This is it.”

So we unpacked the car and hauled our overnight bags up the carved wooden staircase to our room, which was decorated with floral curtains and featured a very plush-looking four-poster bed. I raised my eyebrow at Mulder, who shrugged and started unpacking.

We had gotten out of the office late in the afternoon and stopped at a diner along the way, so I was already thinking fondly of bed by the time I finished brushing my teeth. While Mulder was in the bathroom, I took off my suit and slipped a loose tank top on over my panties. So much for modesty tonight. 

I crawled under the covers, shivering a little in the air-conditioned room, switched my bedside lamp off, and rolled over onto my side, hoping that I might fall asleep before Mulder got into bed and thereby avoid any awkward conversation.

I woke up to soft but insistent kisses on my neck. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I was still lying on my side and Mulder’s warm body mass was pressed up against my back. His mouth left a trail of warm moisture on the right side of my neck as I tried not to move too much and disturb his focus. 

At some point I made a little involuntary moan and he stopped suddenly, realizing I was awake. I didn’t turn back to look at him, but failing to remember any the reasons I shouldn’t, I snuggled closer to him, up against his back, and he resumed his ministrations. Then he moved one hand to a breast that was exposed through the neck of the tank top, and the other slid under my panties. As my tank top rode up my back, I could feel his bare chest against my skin, and his erection was prominent in his boxers. It didn’t take long for me to get wet, with his fingers sliding around my clit, never as hard as I wanted them, making me beg for more.

“Mulder…” I groaned, and with surprising force, he pushed my panties down my thighs, did the same with his boxers, and positioned himself at my entrance. With the hand that had been touching me, he guided himself into me as I leaned forward and pushed my ass into him to give him a better angle.

Our lovemaking was surprisingly soft. I almost felt as though I hadn’t yet awakened from sleep and this was just part of my dream. He moved his hand back to my clit and stroked me as he thrust, his motions growing stronger as he worked himself up. I pushed back against him as my orgasm built, until I finally let go, bringing him crashing down with me.

He stayed inside me for several minutes, his breath still heavy and warm in my ear and his arm lying lazily across my stomach. I finally pulled away from him to clean myself up, but when I returned to bed, Mulder pulled me back into his arms and we lay there, my head against his chest, until I finally broke the silence.

“There wasn’t really a UFO sighting, was there?”   
“No.”

“And this wasn’t really the only room available for miles.”

“Right again.”

“Why are we here, then, Mulder?”

He pulled me closer and spoke into my hair. “Because I missed you, Scully.”

I kissed his bare chest. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

He sighed and stroked my back for a moment before continuing.

“Scully, in the last couple of months, we came close to shooting each other twice. And I’m not totally convinced you’ve forgiven me for my role in Queequeg’s demise.”

The way he said the last part was almost humorous, but losing my dog to a crocodile was still too raw for me to find it funny. He was right - part of me hadn’t forgiven him for dragging me down to the woods in the first place. It didn’t help that he hadn’t seemed especially contrite since. 

And he was right about the first part, too. Since he pointed his gun at me under Modell’s influence, I had been stepping lightly around him. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t really him aiming the gun, but it was hard to erase that image from my mind. Some of that fear must have fed my delusions a few weeks ago when I pointed my own gun at him. Yeah, our partnership definitely had some trust issues at the moment.

But when Mulder spoke again, it was gentle. “I just wanted to hold you, Scully. I wanted to remember what our partnership feels like when there isn’t a gaping chasm between us.”

I said nothing in reply, but I snuggled closer, as if mere physical proximity could heal some of those wounds.

“Besides,” he added with a chuckle, “this is way better than those stupid FBI partnership seminars they keep trying to send us to.”

At this last remark, I suddenly felt a swell of anger build up in me. All of my appreciation for his tenderness vanished. The walls he had started to bring down immediately went up again. I rolled away from him and faced the wall.

“That’s all this is to you?” A work obligation?”

I knew I wasn’t being fair. I knew my anger was completely irrational, but I couldn’t overcome the frustration I felt at the whole situation. And right now the most convenient target was Mulder.

He was silent for several minutes. I wasn’t sure whether he was hurt, confused, or just letting me stew for a little while before he tried to talk to me again. That last option made me the most irate - the idea that he could be completely calm and calculating while I lay over here steaming.

After a few minutes, I felt his arms surround me.

“I hate it, too. I hate that we’re not supposed to be together like this.”

Fucking psychologist. He always knew actually what to say. Despite myself, I felt my anger evaporating as quickly as it had appeared.

He stroked my cheek, and I finally turned to face him again. It gave me some satisfaction to see that he wasn’t totally unaffected by my outburst, but I pushed that feeling aside and gently touched my lips to his - the first kiss we had shared all night.

Mulder had certainly chosen a beautiful spot for rehabilitating our partnership. We spent the next day hiking in the foothills around the little town, enjoying the warm spring weather and each other’s company. It felt both strange and completely natural to spend time together with no work to do. The thought of going back to the Hoover Building and returning to the status quo made me surprisingly unhappy.

Mulder must have read it in my face as we got into the car because he took my face in his hands, kissed me one more time and said, “At least we’ll have this memory, right?”

I grabbed his hand. “I miss this place already.”

When we got back to work, I wondered how he would explain this little trip to Skinner, but it never showed up in the expense reports.


	8. Chapter 8

I got off the plane and took a cab straight back to my apartment, intending to sleep for about twenty-four hours before I tried to face the world again. Every muscle in my body hurt, every inch of skin was caked in dirt, and I wasn’t completely sure, if someone spoke to me, that I would be able to respond coherently. I had stripped and was about to throw myself into a long, hot shower when I saw the answering machine light blinking angrily at me. 

For a moment, I debated going over to the phone. Of course there would be messages - I had been gone for days without telling anyone besides Scully where I was. And I hadn’t spoken to Scully since I left. There was no telling what had transpired in our case while I had been away.

So, still a little reluctantly, I picked up the phone. The first message was from Skinner. 

“Mulder, where the hell are you? Get your ass down to the Hart Building now or you and Scully are both in the hottest water you’ve ever been in!” 

Well, that was pretty clear. I skipped through the next few messages and they were all Skinner, and he just seemed to get more frustrated, if that was possible, in each subsequent message. My machine was one of those cheap models that didn’t give a date or time for the message, so I had no idea whether whatever he was talking about was still going on. I tried Scully on her cell phone, but there was no answer.

So I skipped the shower, threw on a slightly rumpled suit, and headed over to Capitol Hill. At least I could use the defense of “I tried” if Scully got mad at me later.

When I walked into the hearing room, the first thing I saw was the back of her head, her hair making her obvious even in the dull light. Scully was sitting in the witness chair facing a panel of senators, all of whom looked pretty hostile. What the hell was going on here?

I’ll admit that I usually try to suppress stray romantic thoughts, especially as they pertain to my partner, but when I was in that nightmarish prison camp, wondering whether I’d ever see her again, I allowed myself to think about her. About her face when she’s focused on a report or an autopsy, about the way she walks when she’s going somewhere in a hurry. About those slight but incredibly warm smiles - all too rare these days - that just light up the room she’s in.

She looked back at me as I entered the room and as soon as she saw me, one of those smiles crept onto her lips.

I knew there was something I should probably do here, although I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out what. All I could do was stand there with a goofy grin on my face, my eyes locked onto her beautiful blue ones.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Skinner motioning frantically at me, so I walked over and took a seat next to him. It was obvious he was not pleased with me, as I had surmised from his messages.

“Scully’s in a load of hot water because of you, Mulder,” he whispered, “It’s a damn good thing you showed up now, otherwise-”

But he was cut off by the committee chair announcing that the session was adjourned. I had just enough time to stand up before Scully was already in front of me and all I could do was envelop her in my arms, mostly just to reassure myself she was real. The light scent of her perfume, which I usually barely noticed, overwhelmed me. I might have gone ahead and kissed her full on the lips, in front of the whole room, if Skinner hadn’t interrupted us.

***

For the next several hours, we were so focused on chasing down leads in this case that I didn’t think to ask Scully what the hearing was about, and it seemed she didn’t want to talk about it.

Sometime around midnight, when I finally got back to my apartment from our trek out to the Canadian oilfields, I was a little loopy from lack of sleep, but I decided I needed to know. So I did something I never would have done had I been fully aware of what I was doing: I called Skinner at home.

He picked up after three rings.

“Mulder, why the hell are you calling me this late at night? Shouldn’t you be-”

I cut him off. “Sir, I’m sorry for bothering you, but I have to know, and I don’t think Scully will tell me. What was going on at that hearing?”

Skinner sighed audibly. “They caught wind you had run off in search of the source of that diplomatic packet, and they wanted to sniff you out. So they subpoena’d all three of us and when you didn’t show, they questioned Scully about where you were.”

He paused, and my stomach sank a little. So this was my fault after all. As usual.

“I’m sure this won’t surprise you, but she covered for you. She refused to answer the question and she spent a couple of nights in jail when they decided she was in contempt of Congress. I’m sure they would have sent her back there if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Scully in jail? For me? Did I hear that right?

“Sir, you mean to say that Scully-”

“Yes, Mulder, she chose to go to jail rather than give away where you had gone. I think you owe her a pretty big thanks for that. Is that all?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I hung up and sat there for a moment. Scully had gone to jail for me. Then, just a few hours ago, she had risked her life to pull me away from an exploding oil well. And here I was, a stupid asshole chasing pointless leads halfway around the world, ignoring her needs while she sacrificed everything for me. My emotions started taking over, and suddenly, I had to see her and tell her how grateful I was.

I was grabbing my jacket when I realized that I hadn’t showered in over a week, I was running on just a few hours of sleep stolen on airplanes, and I was bordering on incoherent even to myself.

What was I planning to tell her? “Hey Scully, thanks for saving my ass” seemed like a feeble excuse for knocking on her door this late, especially since we had only parted an hour ago at the airport taxi stand. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to think of what to say.

Then it came to me, short and simple.

“I love you, Scully.”

That’s all I had to say. I grabbed my keys and almost ran to the elevator.

***

It took her almost a minute to answer the door. As she opened it to let me in, I saw she was wearing a fluffy white robe and her skin was scrubbed pink, presumably from a bath. She closed the door behind me, leaned against it with her arms crossed across her chest, and raised her eyebrows pointedly at me, obviously waiting for some explanation.

I suddenly felt awkward. The words that had seemed so easy to say in my apartment weren’t coming out at all. Maybe I should try something easier.

“I talked to Skinner.” Yeah, good start. Her eyebrows only crept higher up her forehead, if that was even possible.

“He said-” I swallowed. “He said that you went to jail to protect me.”

She only shrugged, as if defying powerful senators was normal for her. This still wasn’t working. I needed a different approach. I needed to show her how much she meant to me.

After a few seconds of building up my courage, I closed the distance between us, cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her. But I immediately knew something was wrong - she went stiff against me, didn’t respond at all to the kiss. I pulled away and looked into her eyes, to see that she was almost in tears.

I took her hand and led her to the couch, where I sat down next to her. I didn’t look at her.

“Mulder, it’s not fair to me.”

When I turned to face her, she was gazing straight ahead. I didn’t know how to respond, so I put my arm around her shoulders. She shook it off immediately and pulled her feet up under herself, still refusing to look at me. After a long pause, she continued.

“Maybe you can have a casual relationship, but I can’t.” 

OK, this was definitely the time to tell her I loved her - and my mouth refused to open and spit the words out.

“I thought we had agreed that we were going to stay professional. Then, in the name of rebuilding our partnership, you take me out to the middle of nowhere and fuck me stupid. Now I’m not going to say I didn’t enjoy it, but it was confusing, Mulder. A relationship needs more than just casual sex, and right now this is fucking up our partnership. So just stay away, please?”

God, I wanted to hold her, I wanted to tell her how much I cared about her, how much I wanted a real relationship, fuck the consequences for our work.

But she was right. That wasn’t fair to her. We had to work together, and besides, I didn’t even know if she wanted a real relationship with me. Maybe that was part of the problem.

I finally dared to look over at her.

“Should I go?”

She turned her head toward me and her eyes locked with mine.

“Yes." There was a long pause, and she didn’t move from where she sat. I was moving my arms to lever myself up from the couch when she said quietly, “But I don’t want you to.”

I pulled her close to me on the couch. This time she didn’t resist when I put my arm around her, and she relaxed into my embrace.

“What if we just spend the night together as platonic coworkers? Enjoy each other’s company, no sex involved?”

“That sounds nice,” she said softly. Then she frowned and sat up, wrinkling her nose. “But if you’re going to be spending the night in my bed, you’d better take a shower first.”

I laughed and got up, looking back once at her small form tucked carefully onto the couch.


	9. Chapter 9

My first thought, when Skinner told me that Scully was in the hospital, was that there had been some kind of mix-up. I was the one who got myself into trouble when she wasn’t with me, not the other way around. And when he handed me the local police report that said she had answered the door that morning at an alleged murderer’s apartment and then had been found there, badly beaten, a few hours later, I almost laughed. Scully wouldn’t have gone home with a man she didn’t know. They had her confused with someone else. 

But Skinner had silently passed the photos to me, and I cringed, seeing the dark bruises standing out against her pale skin, the marks on her arms, her legs, her ribcage where she had been thrown around, and I hadn’t been there to protect her.

Then the second implication hit me: Scully hadn’t asked me to protect her. She had chosen to spend the night with this bastard who had knocked her around. She had chosen to be with someone who wasn’t me. Suddenly, I felt nauseous, thinking of his hands on her body, his mouth on her lips. Without a word, I got up and left Skinner’s office and nearly ran back down to the safety of our basement office.

But even the office no longer felt like a sanctuary. Those pictures seemed to stare back at me through the file folder, accusing me of somehow being the cause of this. Was it because she was unhappy being sent after a lead she didn’t want to chase? Was it because, a romantic relationship having fallen through, she was now unhappy as my partner? Was it because I didn’t get her a stupid desk?

I knew I should have gone to see her in the hospital, but I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the evidence of what he had done to her. What, some dark corner of my brain was telling me, she had brought on herself. Or, worst, what I had done to her.

***

Mulder sat on the other side of the desk, but he felt like he was miles away from me. At the same time, the room felt constricted, the air too heavy to breathe properly. His eyes bore into mine, asking questions he knew he had no right to ask aloud. And yet his eyes still asked them, refusing to accept my silence. “It’s my life,” I had told him, but he seemed to think, as my partner, he was entitled to something more.

I was still frustrated with Mulder, with his insistence on pursuing leads over my objections, with the way he seemed to think only his opinion counted. And there was a part of me that was angry with him for just accepting that a relationship between us was impossible, that we should just go back to a collegial work relationship.

Ed had been a nice break from all of that. It had been nice to have someone listening to me for a change - honestly interested in what I had to say, not ready to run out on me at a moment’s notice at the news of strange lights in the sky. 

I won’t deny that I looked pretty bad right now, with the bruises and scratch marks I couldn’t conceal standing out loudly on my skin. But I also couldn’t regret spending the night with Ed. Every time Mulder and I stepped over the line between coworkers and lovers, things got more confusing between us. Things had been simple with Ed - no strings, no baggage, just freedom.

I felt a rush of pleasure thinking of the tattoo still healing, covered by a bandage, on my lower back. I knew Mulder desperately wanted to see it, that the thought of there being a part of me he wasn’t part of killed him, and I knew I wouldn’t show it to him, at least not now, when he was looking at me like I had just made the worst mistake of my life.

I took a deep breath, folded my hands in my lap, and met Mulder’s gaze again, trying my best not to let my emotions show on the surface.

“Are we done here? Can we get back to work?”

Mulder looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.

***

We were silent on the drive back to DC. Mulder’s hands were clenched tight on the steering wheel, but when he looked over at me, his expression was full of tenderness and concern. I wasn’t sure I really wanted his tenderness and concern at the moment, though, so I turned away to stare out the window.

I felt strangely calm in the face of the death sentence I had received just a few days ago. In fact, the only emotion I was feeling was anger - and not even for myself, mostly, but for Penny Northern and the other women of MUFON, who had been victims of people who hadn’t even known their names. As I watched the dark figures of trees and highway signs race by, I wondered if we might be able to bring down a few of the people who were responsible before I went.

When Mulder passed the Beltway exit we needed to take to get to across the Key Bridge to Georgetown, I looked over at him questioningly, but he stared straight ahead, refusing to catch my eye. As we took the exit for Alexandria instead, he glanced back over at me, as if waiting for me to protest, but I said nothing. 

I knew what he was doing. He was afraid of losing me, and somehow, bringing me to his apartment and setting me on the couch amid the familiar clutter, next to his mollies, could push that fear back for a little while. It was almost as though he thought, if he locked me away in his little sanctuary, he could keep the danger at bay. I might have imagined that, too, if it weren’t for the constant throbbing in my head to remind me that the danger was not out there somewhere, but inside me.

But I was willing to go along. I had told him what I needed - to work and act like things were normal for as long as we could - and now he was showing me what he needed.

He pulled my overnight bag from the trunk, then came around to the passenger side to open the door for me. He offered his hand to help me out and as I took it, his warm fingers closed around mine before moving to clasp me firmly around the waist.

When we got inside, he steered me not toward the couch, but into his bedroom. He let go of me for long enough to set my overnight bag down by the door and shrug off his leather jacket onto a chair. Then he pushed me gently toward the bed. We stopped there, and his mouth was on mine, gentle but insistent, reclaiming it as his own. 

None of my objections to physical intimacy with Mulder - the desire to maintain a professional relationship, questions about our intentions and where this might be going - seemed relevant now, so I let him continue, responding with my own fierce kisses.

He pushed me backward so I was sitting on the bed and then he kneeled in front of me. Gently, he pulled off my shoes and socks, then peeled off my pants, stopping to kiss me again every few seconds. Then, with his hands in the waistband of my panties, he looked up at me for approval. I pulled his face toward mine and kissed him, and he slid them off my legs, leaving me in only the t-shirt I had put before we left the hospital and a cotton bra.

As he kissed me again, he slid his hands up my shirt and cupped my breasts, rubbing his thumbs gently over my nipples, before spreading my legs and sinking down to claim me with his mouth.

I imagined that this, too, was a way to reassure himself that I was still in the world with him, that I hadn’t just floated away while he wasn’t looking. When he came back up, he pulled my t-shirt off, unhooked my bra, and stood over me as I lay on the bed, surveying every inch of my body, making sure, I suppose, that all of me was still there with him.

Then his hungry eyes met mine, and I knew what he wanted to claim next. So I rolled over onto my stomach, displaying my back to him. He stood there for a long time without speaking or touching me. Then I suddenly felt one finger trace the lines of my tattoo, committing it to memory, I imagined. After a moment, I felt his warm mouth kiss what must have been the very center. Now the tattoo was no longer mine or Ed’s - it was his. And instead of feeling frustration at his masculine possessiveness, I wanted him to consume me. Perhaps, I mused, if Mulder devoured me, there would be nothing left for the cancer to take.

Gently, he shifted me onto my back again and, looking down at me, he murmured, “Scully…”

Again, knowing that he was looking for permission, I looked up into his eyes and responded, “Mulder, it’s alright. Take me.”

And then he was tearing off his sweater, shoes, socks, jeans, boxers, throwing them away as quickly as he could, paying no attention to where they landed. And a few seconds later, he was above me, his hands positioned on either side of my head, ready to enter me. I reached up to kiss him, he slowly slid himself inside me, and we both lost ourselves in his strong thrusts.

I came first, with his hand rubbing hard at my clit as he thrust, and my spasms pulled him over the edge with me. After a few minutes, he rolled off me and pulled me close against his chest, running one hand gently along my back and the other through my hair. 

I wondered if he was going to try to talk about what had happened, but the only words that came out of his mouth were, “Will you stay the night, Scully?”

That was the first time tonight he had given me a choice, not just the chance to object. But it was clear what he needed. So I snuggled up closer to him and nodded. After what felt like a long time, we both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
